


Paperback

by tachyarrhythmia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Character Study, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smut, Tie Kink, Viktor speaks Russian here btw, Yurio is mentioned if you squint, and Phichit is best friend goals, they fuck like bunnies lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9288404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tachyarrhythmia/pseuds/tachyarrhythmia
Summary: For Yuuri, managing a quaint, little bookstore in a far-off corner of a small town is everything he could have asked for. He earns well, the folks are not that much interesting, the coffee here is great, he has nice friends and he's got an endless pile of books.It's enough to make him stay, despite the desolate and boring atmosphere; that is until the Newcomer comes along.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was longer than expected. Oh well.

Yuuri considers himself as a relatively normal man. He’s had a degree in English, has a stable financial background and a considerably promising career as a journalist. His family is in the middle-class; both his parents being the type to run and manage a public bath house, but Yuuri doesn’t really like the notion of dependency. His sister’s more eager to use theirs, enthusiastic and always very eager, but he sees acquiring a scholarship, finding a job and funding his own little life would be a much more considerate choice. And he knows how hard it is. He knows how hard people struggle when it comes to money; how they’d break their backs for a second job just to pay the bills, how they’d work extra nights for an extra tip or how he’s tempted to just stop and end it all. But he’s happy, now that he knows a little sacrifice is always worth it in the end. Struggling was one thing, but being able to pay your own bills, cook your own food and buy your own stuff, it leaves a stark, poignant mark of achievement.

He loves his job now too, maybe still a bit far from writing news articles or printing columns - he’s getting there, but with a few minor road blocks, he settles for work in a quaint, small bookstore tucked in a corner of a slow-paced, sleepy town. He considers this place to be his, since he’s the only one in charge. And the owner, a somewhat nice old man with a funny mustache, is only concerned about his monthly profits. It’s old, and definitely in need of a new paint job but it’s beautiful nonetheless. The endless aisles and shelves, the smell of paper, the antique and homey ambiance - it’s heaven on earth. It’s amazing how one could fit an enormous amount of books in a reasonably small establishment. Stacks of books stand tall, lining the narrow pathways, the cashier counter a tight fit in the corner next to a window and a large bookshelf, in which Yuuri would put all his personal favorites loom behind the counter, making the atmosphere more snug - or in Yuuri’s case, homier.

And another thing he loves is that he gets to observe the variety of people that come through his doors with a little jingle of the bell as they signal their arrival. He’s seen old couples, brushing their bony fingers along the spines of old books, sharply dressed men strolling through the biographies section, women giggling through the romance collections, children, who always waves at him head straight toward the children’s books. And there are some interesting ones, people with red-tipped ears and small blushes that purchase adult-oriented books, the ones who purchase the same with a lopsided smile and a teasing wink, and the folks who come and pass by like a silent breeze with not much of a greeting or a goodbye.

He’s made some peculiar friends as well; a kid named Phichit - he’s from Thailand, braving the bigger city and brighter lights with a dream as big as his heart. And the cute Chinese one called Guang. Yuuri makes it a habit every morning to visit and getting himself a latte in their coffee shop just across the street. Phichit would feed him the latest gossip, mostly about scandalized celebrities and the talk of the town, sometimes about urban legends and the hottest craze. The kid’s a wizard, or at least his smart phone is, as he fishes it out the next minute and snaps a picture of Yuuri just as he takes a sip at the latte Guang made for him and burn his tongue at how hot it is.

“Did you see him?” Phichit drags on, his eyes focused on the picture of a pouting Yuuri before snorting a laugh. “The new dude, I mean”

“Someone moved in?” Yuuri asks, nursing his burned tongue with small dabs of ice Guang has provided. Damn, he really needs to go around more. “Well, I heard he’s only staying for a few weeks.” Phichit answers with a quirk of an eyebrow, his fingers working through his phone like a scientist perfecting a concoction. “You really should go out more, Yuuri. You’re missing things”

In retaliation, Yuuri snags the phone from his hands. “I do go out. I visit you and Guang everyday” he taps on the screen and sees pictures of hamsters on Google images. “You’re really weird”

“That’s not my point” Phichit takes his phone back, “And yes, I’m weird, but you love me anyway” he sticks out his tongue, and Yuuri can’t help but chuckle at the way Guang shakes his head on his barista corner. Poor kid must be scandalized with early morning selfies. “Anyway, what I mean is, go out with people. Have fun, go party, live for once!” he gestures with weird hand movements, and Yuuri smacks his arms away before he hits his cup. “And besides, you might meet Mr. Newcomer along the way”

“No thanks; I’m married to my books” Yuuri whines. Phichit is the type of person who’s open about everything; from his relationships to his family background and to anything in between. But what he's most curious about, the one trait that seemingly keeps him functioning that it sometimes borders awkwardness and embarrassment, is his tendency to stick his nose in other people’s relationships. And Yuuri is his latest victim. A guinea pig, as he’d like to call it.

“You’ll grow old miserable”

“Maybe I’d prefer that”

“Your nights will be cold”

“No one to snag the blankets away sounds fine”

“Anniversaries won’t be a date to look forward to!”

“No money to spend, then”

“No breakfast in bed!”

“I prefer my own cooking, thank you very much”

“Ugh! You’re insufferable!” and at that, Phichit basically gives up. Yuuri mimics his action of propping his elbows on the marble counter and smiles brightly, “But you love me for it” he teases. Typical of Phichit, really. Besides, if Mr. Newcomer’s only stopping by for a few weeks, a chance of meeting him (if he ever does go out for some me-time) is down to zero, since he only knows of quite a few good places a stranger can look around to, and there’s nothing much this town can offer - save a few coffee shops with delicious deserts and an old shopping mall. There’s an ice rink too, but even Yuuri ’s not much familiar with any of these places. His only threshold is that small, quiet bookstore whose books bear comfort and whose walls he considers home.

*

As far as his week goes, Sunday is the day parents usually bring in their kids to crash the place and fill the silent halls with murmurs, hushed reprimands, screams and a jovial tone of story-telling. Teenage boys would also come in and head for the romance section reading the cliche lines aloud and make kissing noises in between. His cash register then would be full by noon, but after a few hours and even after seeing fewer people come in, this Sunday has got to be his quietest so far. He guesses it's the weather, now that winter has begun and snow just started to fall that people would actually prefer to stay cozy at home, savoring the heat from their fireplace as the days get shorter.

He hears the chime on the door and only utters a small welcome as he reads his current book. _To Kill a Mocking Bird._ Yuuri thanks the gods for sending Harper Lee. Too bad she was taken away a tad bit early. Oh how Yuuri wished he had her autograph. Immersed in his reading, it takes him a while to register the deep and foreign(?) voice.

“Извините”

The minute that voice interrupts again, Yuuri snaps his head up and well… _damn_. The only thing he hears is the clatter of the chair when he stands up almost immediately and the soft thud of the book, face down with its pages crumpled onto the floor. Because what a fine, fine glass of water is standing before him indeed. Silver hair that frames the left side of his face, eyes a perfect icy blue and his megawatt smile - Yuuri finds himself staring, mouth open as the stranger blinks. He probably thinks I'm stupid oh my god. He can feel the sense of attraction overtaking his sensibility; can tell from the reaction of his body and the sirens that bellow inside his mind because damn, he’s hot. So perfect. So picturesque. So goddamn attractive. Where’s Phichit and his phone when you need him.

Yuuri feels himself shudder and shakes his head, noticing that the man was actually waiting for an answer. He mentally slaps himself. “I-I beg your pardon?” Oh great, his voice cracked. And as though the heavens have opened and shed its light upon the living, the man smiles - and bless his soul he could be a god for all Yuuri to ogle on - and says, “I apologize; I forgot I’m not in Russia”

And oh, a sexy Russian with a sexy accent.

Yuuri forces a smile and though his voice shakes, he manages...for now. “What can I help you with?” he asks, silently cheering for surviving that without getting his tongue tied in a jumbled heap. “The Swimming-Pool Library” the stranger enlightens, his icy irises turning into a warmer, more comfortable shade. “Oh, of course. One moment, please” Yuuri stutters, mentally cursing his nervous state. The sound of a chair being dragged and his own trembling fingers typing away at the keyboard is the only distraction he can hear. He has never seen this man before, but the way he is dressed and how he spoke another language, Yuuri can definitely tell that he isn’t from around the area, and from the way how eyes run up and down his body, he knows he’s being checked out. Especially when said eyes and most definitely that heavy gaze fell on his ass and _stay_ there. Good lord, he needs to calm down.

He gestures for the stranger to follow him, and as he walks; a bit wobbly and out of line, he appreciates how the man’s top coat accentuate his broad shoulders. His clothes look expensive as well, from his crisp white dress shirt to the silk black tie around his neck to those pants. God, he doesn’t need to stare right now. But those pants are three different kinds of tight and snug and it hugs his legs to show how lean and how long and shit, he’s tall. And even with his back turned to him, his hips swaying a bit more just for good measure, Yuuri can’t erase the mental image of this man. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, but meeting Mr. Newcomer in such a dire, unexpected way has made him question his initial goal of not getting laid again until he’s 30. Scratch that, this fine specimen’s changed it all. It doesn’t border lust, Yuuri’s sure, but he knows it’s along the corners of attraction and maybe, just a tad bit of maybe - _want_. Anyone in their right sense of mind and with a functioning set of eyes, even Phichit with his love for selfies and hamsters, noticed this eye-candy sticking out of the mud. And who wouldn’t, really?

They work their way into the deeper parts of the shop, where books, books and more books in shelves and tables line their way towards the dusty walls. He sees the small portion of Hollinghurst’s collection and his fingers immediately reach up to search the spines, “What’s the title again?” Yuuri asks, feeling his heart would soon burst out of his chest. The silence is just too tense. And to make it even more tense, Mr. Newcomer steps closer, leans on one side against the shelf and props himself like a Greek god compared to the stark contrast of books. “The Swimming-Pool Library” he says, almost whispering, when he could’ve just said it aloud like any normal person would. He’s leaning forward too, so his breath and his cologne charades around Yuuri’s sanity like patrolling burglars. He’s close. Too close. Apparently, Mr. Newcomer is showing his interest. Yuuri would’ve crashed face first into the bookshelf if he ever shows his. It’s embarrassing, even just to think about it.

“Right” he replies and swallows the lump on his throat when he feels the burn of his gaze as he rummages through the top shelf. _He’s staring at my ass again._ Yuuri’s inner monologue can beat Shakespeare’s with just this collection of sappy and unreliable narration written in his head like 10 minutes ago. He can feel the blush creep down to his neck, and he’s almost too sure his ears are red by now. Stranger just won’t stop staring after all.

And after searching for a solid five minutes, Yuuri steps down the small stool and turns to face the man. He knows he’s near, but he didn’t know just how near until he meets his gaze and collides with stranger’s chest. Yuuri registers the smile, the eyes, the hair… and then he’s stumbling back from the sheer shock, his feet failing him once and for all and expects pain to follow. But it never came. Hands catch him instead, one supporting his waist and the other around his shoulder. Excitement runs through him, zapping through like electricity from live wires; and before the man could even open his mouth, Yuuri maneuvers himself out of his grasp. He feels hot. And bothered. Bad, bad, bad. This is bad. It’s been a while since he felt attracted to someone, let alone a man and a very interesting one at that, and it’s doing things to him right now. It’s messing up his mind, snatching his train of thought away, and the last thing he needs is to faint from the weight of it all.

“We’re out of copies as of the moment, but a new delivery will come on Friday” Yuuri explains once he’s back at the safety of the cashier and resists the urge to groan when the man leans on the counter to peek at the computer. ”Friday?” Stranger repeats, smiling at Yuuri. Damn, he wants to slap him now.

“Yes, probably around 10”

He sees him nod, and then he’s straightening back. Yuuri still feels the warmth of his hands around him.

“Alright, I’ll drop by on Friday then. I guess I’ll see you?”

Another smile, a small wave and one last thorough check out and he’s gone. Yuuri could still smell his cologne around the bookstore.

*

Yuuri mopes by the time Monday has arrived, peeking through his window and hoping to get a glimpse of familiar silver hair. It’s only been a few hours since he opened and instead of distracting himself with a book, here he is looking utterly disappointed that a tall Russian whose coat probably costs more than his salary is nowhere to be found. Maybe he’s finally fixating his attention to one of the locals, Yuuri thinks; he’ll probably sweep them off their feet and devour them then move on to the next. It makes him nervous and frustrated.

He sees Guang throwing the garbage out from his window, and that makes him think - he didn’t have his morning coffee yet. Putting his jacket on, he leaves his haven of a bookstore and crosses the street where Guang greets him.

“Hey!” Phichit greets him as usual, though a bit more jovial this time. Yuuri cocks an eyebrow.

“Hey” he replies weakly, slumping against the counter and tempted to just crawl over it and sleep. To be honest, he didn’t get much rest last night, not when all his brain had to offer for dreams was composed of all things Russian. He woke up frustrated and he thanked the gods that morning for not soiling the sheets.

A piece of glass breaking diverts his attention back to a grinning Phichit. “Guang, go help Leo out” he says, not showing much concern, “He’s new, so he’s a bit clumsy with his hands”. Handing Yuuri his cup, Phichit wipes his hands on his apron and turns the counter to sit beside him. His grin is distracting; too bright and radiant for Yuuri’s tired and puffy eyes. The kid probably knows something.  

“You’re awfully quiet this morning. Something else in mind?” Oh boy, it’s starting. Yuuri takes a whiff at his coffee and feels like he’s risen from his grave. “Just tired. I sorted out books until 1” he hopes it’s an acceptable excuse. But Phichit being Phichit, with his ability to see straight through lies and make you guilty about them, just nods, chuckling a bit when Yuuri chokes after taking a big swig of his latte. “You’re not going to tease me for it?” Yuuri asks, curious as to why his friend seem to buy his excuse. It’s both a wonder and a nightmare at the same time.

“I can’t blame you for it though” Phichit chides, wrapping an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “He’s hot”

At that Yuuri groans, planting his forehead on the marble counter and just whines like a cat being refused treats. “You’ve seen him around?” Yuuri tries, making an effort not to sound too desperate into seeing Mr. Newcomer. He could’ve walked in right then and there and Yuuri would be sure he’d faint from seeing him. He has a very active imagination after all.

Phichit shrugs his shoulders, a bit teasing and a lot more amused at how his friend turned from statue to goo in a snap of a finger. “He dropped by to get coffee this morning. Heavy accent might I add”

“He did?” Yuuri snaps his head back up, spilling a bit of his latte on the counter. “And?”

“And” Phichit drags, “He’s on a business trip slash visiting his brat of a nephew. Y’know, the one who shares the same name as you. Nasty kid just keeps flicking his boogers everywhere. I didn’t get much detail. The guy had a massive background” he gets a napkin and wipes the spill Yuuri made before throwing it out on the bin in front of him. “And apparently he’s also somewhat interested in a bespectacled boring guy who runs a bookstore across the street”

Yuuri bumps his head on the marble counter again, “He told you that?” he asks, embarrassed. His ears feel hot and his face felt like a pre-heated oven. Phichit laughs beside him. “Well no, but judging from the way he chose to sit on the chair in front of a window and stare at your shop for the entirety of his stay here, I’m pretty much convinced he’s after your glorious ass” he ends his little banter with a swipe of his phone. “Ain’t that right, Guang?”

Guang perks up at the mention of his name. “Yes” he says simply. “He almost dropped his coffee ’cos he’s too busy looking elsewhere” there’s a hint of teasing in his voice and Yuuri mentally chides at the influence Phichit has on the poor kid. He’s starting to sound much like him too.

“His name’s Viktor by the way. Viktor Nikiforov.”

Oh dear, even his name sounds perfect. Yuuri groans for the nth time that morning and bumps his head against the counter until he’s sure there will be bruising.

 

* * *

 

The delivery arrives a day early, and Yuuri finds himself tucked away in the farthest corner of the shop, sorting Dan Brown and Charles Dickens into their respective bookshelves. He placed the book Viktor ordered on the cashier, so if he gets a chance to drop by, Yuuri can give it to him and put a possible end to this fiasco. He’s not sure himself either, because the only thing the both of them shared were glances; _hot_ and _heavy_ glances and maybe stalk each other through their one mutual connection; who is more than happy to spill information by the way, and besides that and the mutual pining, no other words were exchanged. Yuuri’s even sure Viktor doesn’t know his name.

The sky outside turns to a deep shade of blues and purples as nighttime approaches. Street lamps illuminate only a few moments later, serving as a guide to those who need to be somewhere else in this cold November night. It’s still a few hours til closing but Yuuri finds himself surprisingly enjoying the mundane task of organizing books and tucking them to almost too-tight shelves. It’s a nice distraction, apart from reading and studying them, especially when the rest of his days are spent thinking about Russian guy and his awesome smile. He only dropped by once, and that was a Tuesday night. Students were lining up on his left and right purchasing history and biology books that he didn’t notice him walk in, read a few novels for about 30 minutes and left after mouthing “Friday” before the door closes to signal his departure. Yuuri regrets not greeting him that day.

And yet his thoughts take him back to the conversation he had at the coffee shop, one that concerns this very same Russian hottie and their obvious boners for each other. Not that he wanted to admit, but Yuuri can’t seem to find a point in meaningless sex. He hates the idea of one-night stands overall. He hates the fact that you’re only invested in something so short-lived and then it ends the next day. Sure it’s a thrill, there’s a rush of excitement, a buildup of want and it ends blissfully in bed. But it stops there, no more crossing the line no matter how much one is willing to give.

Sure he’s had a few flings, it was normal for his age. Back when he was in college, he’s had a few girlfriends that were only after his pants, and most of them would only end up in nights where he’d leave first or not finishing what they’d started. Yuuri figured out it was a product of peer pressure and stress. He didn’t like it at all. Didn’t like how their long nails would scratch at his skin, how weird a woman’s soft curves and supple flesh feels underneath him and didn’t like the sound coming from her mouth. It was all new, and put off by experience, he didn’t bother to try again.

Sometimes, men would make advances, and there was a time when Yuuri felt a little more adventurous. Chris was a beautiful man, he had to admit. He had enthralled Yuuri, enthralled him enough that he was willing to spend a night with him. And it was thanks to Chris that Yuuri realized he preferred men, much enjoyed receiving than giving. However, they were two different people with very different preferences. And Yuuri didn’t bother to take things further knowing that it will only get complicated.

It was good, but it stopped there.

Still, it bothers him. Now that it seem to repeat all over again. But his gut tells him it’s different. It’s new. Viktor’s not some kind of guy out there who’s only looking for a person to fuck and hitch a ride away to find someone else. He wants it - wants more than a passionate night in bed. It’s a point where he searches for an assurance, a guarantee; something that will stay for a long time and possibly never have to leave. He wants to wake up one day bathed in warmth, and realizing he got what he had always wanted. It’s been too long, he decides.

And maybe Phichit is right - growing old miserable, cold nights, no anniversaries and no breakfast in bed sounds a bit too lonely. He’d be surrounded by lovely couples doing lovely couple things and he’d be right by the sidelines, possibly moping and bitter and taking care of 9 or 10 poodles. And if he wants to be honest, he truly finds Viktor appealing. It’s the eyes, he decides. Or the hair, those legs and shit, that voice. Everything about Viktor Nikiforov is appealing. He’d even bet his morning breath smells amazing.

Yuuri closes his eyes and sighs deeply, tucking the last book in the shelf which stubbornly decides to stick its spine out from the perfect line he made. He’s gonna have to leave this place soon too. He’s going to leave this town behind and go back to the city where his future job awaits him.

He hears the chime on the door jingle and a soft clicking of heels on the floor approaching. “Anyone here?” comes Viktor Nikiforov’s voice from the front of the shop. Yuuri jumps down from his ladder and takes a deep breath. “At the back” he shouts, proceeding to sit on the polished floor to arrange the books on the lowest shelf. His fingers are shaking, but he ignores it. “You got my book” Viktor says as soon as he appears into view, waving the bundle as he walks into the snug aisle and invites himself to sit down next to Yuuri. Yuuri shoots him a smile, one that he has been saving since their first meeting and he grips the book he’s holding closer. The smell of musky cologne and faint vanilla fills his nostrils. Viktor moves closer.

“How much for the book?” he asks. Yuuri turns to look at him, openly staring at his eyes and his lips. “It’s free” he whispers, but it’s audible enough for Viktor to flash that award winning smile. Yuuri shivers.

“Really?”

“Really”

They look at each other for a while, and it’s not long before one of them gives in. It’s Viktor who moves first, his hand slowly making its way to pluck the glasses from Yuuri’s nose before it goes straight to his hair, burying his fingers in silky black strands just to mess it up and push it back. Yuuri does the same, timidly bringing his right hand up to sweep Viktor’s bangs from his eyes, and he exhales a breath he’s been holding when he meets a smoldering gaze. It takes a push, a bend of his back, a rise to his knees and they’re kissing, a simple slide of lips against the other. But then Viktor flicks his tongue down Yuuri’s lower lip, and expecting nothing less, Yuuri opens wide and invites him in.

He feels the bookshelf shake above him the next minute as he grows bolder, now straddling Viktor and grinding down on the delicious friction pressing against his inner thigh. He moans, whines and groans at the hands on his hips and hair, pushing him down and rubbing hard while his own fingers take refuge in Viktor’s neck, pulling at the short strands and using it to pull Viktor back to expose his throat so his mouth can trail kisses down the man’s neck. Viktor responds by squeezing his ass and Yuuri’s hips stutters forward.

“дерьмо” Viktor mutters something in Russian below him as Yuuri humps the tent in his pants, his deft fingers playing along the buttons of his coat. He kisses him again and good lord Viktor tastes so good on his tongue. It’s only been minutes and he’s addicted to his taste. A hand pulls at his hair, and he finds himself being lowered unto the floor, legs pushed aside with Viktor settling himself comfortably in between. Fingers soon started to unbutton his shirt, and Yuuri manages to prop himself up on his elbows to put a stop at Viktor’s wandering hands.

“Wait. Not here” he whispers and he chokes back a spit when Viktor kisses him hard.

“Where?” Viktor asks next, sounding desperate and angry and excited all the same time.

“I live upstairs. I just need to lock up then…” Yuuri is back to his feet before he can even finish. An arm curls around his waist, and the lights are out before he knows it. The door’s been shut and the blinds are pulled down. Viktor is back on him in an instant, and it’s all tongue and teeth and hands as they struggle to climb the stairs and insert the key on the door handle.

*

“Fuck” Yuuri pants as Viktor maneuvers him to the bed, supporting his hips with a hand while he spreads him, legs impossibly wide and Viktor’s dick breaching towards his asshole. He enters him slowly, and Yuuri tears up at the stretch - he hasn’t done this for a while and the feeling of being filled, and that slight pang of pain plus Viktor’s lips on his neck, it’s all too much.

“Yuuri” Viktor murmurs against his jaw, making small licks as he waits for Yuuri to adjust. “My Yuuri” it’s a growl, and oh, how he almost blacks out. Yuuri loves the sound of his name coming from Viktor’s mouth. And so he pulls him closer, wraps his legs around his waist and begins to fuck himself on Viktor’s dick.

“Move” he whimpers, feeling Viktor twitch inside him. He feels so good. Hard and big and stretching him wide. Viktor moves without hesitation and Yuuri whines when he pulls back; long and slow and teasing and thrusts back in with a snap of his hips. “Harder, harder” his pleas echo around the four corners of the room and Viktor responds by punching his dick deeper, burying his root and hitting his sweet spot again and again.

“Моя любовь” Viktor’s speaking in Russian again but Yuuri doesn’t mind, not when he suddenly makes a grab for his legs, place them on his shoulders, bend down so his nose is buried in Yuuri’s hair and starts fucking him wild. Yuuri’s screams bellow through the room. He’s close. He’s so fucking close. Viktor had him trapped under lean muscles and his mouth a vice against his.

They kiss through their first orgasm, and Yuuri finds himself next on Viktor’s lap, his hands to Viktor’s chest and then he’s sinking himself down, gripping strong shoulders as he frantically rides his brains out. “Yes, yes, yes” Yuuri howls, making sure he to clench his walls around Viktor’s cock every downward thrust. Viktor moves faster, his arms locking themselves around Yuuri’s waist. His hand then moves in between them, grasps Yuuri’s cock and jacks him in sync with his thrusts.

Reaching a hand back to grab at Viktor’s hair, Yuuri stares at him, mouth open and panting; his hips surging forward as he rides and rides and rides. And Viktor doesn’t stop, just continues fucking and jacking until Yuuri can feel the uncoordinated motion of his thrusts, can feel the arm around his waist tighten.

“Inside” he urges, voice low and commanding. Viktor brings him closer, moves his hand faster and just like that, Yuuri’s coming with a shout. He hears a grunt below him, and Yuuri whimpers through the pleasure that racks his body, loving the feel of Viktor’s cum inside him. It’s a mess of sweat, saliva and cum when Viktor slips out, bringing Yuuri with him to the other side of the bed. They lay in silence for minutes, with the only sound of the ticking clock above their heads as background noise. Yuuri cuddles closer, smiling softly at the fingers combing through his hair and the kiss that came shortly afterward. He looks up, seeing the glory of after-glow in Viktor’s face. “That was nice” he says, and Viktor smiles before he rolls on top of him, his body warm and welcoming.

“Again?” the Russian suggests with a kiss, and Yuuri succumbs to his hands as Viktor carries him off towards the bathroom.

*

The room is warm and reeks of sex when Yuuri wakes up. He sits up and stretches - slow and calculated, careful not to pull at his joints considering how rough their escapade was last night. And man, he was sore all over. So much for extra lube and going slow. He turns to look at the man still slumbering beside him, hair disheveled, mouth red and neck littered with marks and scratches. Yuuri smiles as he observes him, runs a hand through his silver hair in an attempt to brush it and pokes at the red-tipped nose peeking from the covers. Viktor groans, his hand sliding over the blanket, patting the space next to him, searching and yearning for warmth until he grabs hold of Yuuri’s own hand to lace their fingers together. It’s warm, and Yuuri can’t help but to lean down and kiss him on the forehead.

“Good morning” he whispers, feeling happy and excited and content.

“доброе утро” Viktor answers, voice low and raspy. “Good morning, Yuuri” he kisses Yuuri’s hand and slides and arm over his waist, dragging him closer. “What time is it?” he asks, resting his head unto Yuuri’s lap and smiles when fingers play with his hair.

“10 minutes to 9”

“Hmm”

Yuuri enjoys this indulging silence; one that is warm, pleasant and welcoming. He had woken up to silence too - almost every morning, if his neighbors were considerate; but it was the kind of stillness that was cold, usually laced with distant murmurs and he’d get up and be ready in no less than an hour. But having Viktor here and hearing his faint snores, having his hand in his and basking in his presence, Yuuri wished it won’t ever go away. He wants it. He needs it. It wasn’t like the mornings he had in the past, even with Chris. He wants Viktor to stay.

And looking around, seeing the sunlight streaking through his windows and bathing his surroundings in a comfortable, yellow glow, Yuuri thinks that it’s kinda nice.

He shakes Viktor lightly, “Aren’t you going home?” he asks, resisting the urge to just tackle the man and cuddle with him all day. “I mean, don’t you have work or things to do?”

Viktor gets up with a sigh and pushes his hair back. “Yeah, I have a lot of things to do” he says, slightly frustrated and annoyed until he pushes Yuuri down with both arms on either side of his head, “And that’s you”

Yuuri laughs as his neck is littered with kisses. Indeed, it’s nice to wake up to this every morning. He grabs at Viktor’s hair again because it spurs him on, and he is rewarded with a nip to his shoulder, Viktor moving down and disappearing out of view as he slides below the sheets. Yuuri squirms when a tongue dips at his navel and shouts when he feels wetness envelope his half-hard cock, licking it to full hardness. He reaches for the lump in between his legs, pushes the head bobbing up and down and keeps him there, moaning and panting while his thighs cushion Viktor in place. “Viktor” Yuuri whimpers, his mewls being muffled by a pillow in an effort to tone down his screams. “Please”

Viktor licks at the prominent vein, sucks at the head and swallows - all in that order, and it makes Yuuri arch his back and scream his name so loud that it’s music to his ears. So he repeats and repeats and repeats, encouraged by the hand on his hair and the soft flesh of Yuuri’s thighs on his head. He slurps down on the bead of pre-cum and kisses his thighs, sucking and biting and licking - marking at times that he’s become addicted, “Tastes so good” he whispers, kissing the tip once more before taking it into his mouth. His fingers wander at Yuuri’s flat stomach, scratching at the skin there and smooths it over until he reaches his thighs where he pushes them closer, nudging his nose to the flesh and place them over his shoulders. “You feel so good” he pants as he comes out of the covers, and Yuuri wastes no time and pulls him in, moaning when he tastes himself on Viktor’s mouth, his own wandering hands cupping the bulge poking at his stomach.

“Wanna grab some coffee after this?” Viktor asks, already reaching for the lube on the bedside table. He gasps when Yuuri strokes him.

“Just be sure to save the details from Phichit” Yuuri mumbles in his ear as Viktor shoves his tongue down his throat.

*

“You owe me 50 bucks” Guang remarks once Yuuri and Viktor enter the shop, and Phichit, still with his phone in his hands, snaps a picture of the both of them before reaching for his own pocket and hand the money over to a grinning Guang. “Looks like you’re not the only one who got lucky last night” he chides, smirking in triumph when he sees the color blossom on Guang’s cheeks and Leo struggling with the dishes, his ears red in the tips.

“The usual?” he then inquires, nodding over to Yuuri and then to Viktor, who moves a little closer to slide an arm around Yuuri’s waist. Phichit whistles low; teasing and obviously having much fun while he prepares their drinks. Yuuri wants to smack him now, even with Viktor’s calming presence beside him, his itch to grab and place Phichit on a headlock is very, very tempting. Oh, but the fun only started from there. “Quite unusual for you to get coffee this late Yuuri” and there it goes. “Had fun last night?”

_**You mean until morning.**_ Yuuri wanted to add, because truthfully, their plan to venture to the coffee shop got held up for another hour...or more, in which they spent their sweet, sweet time abusing his bed further, the window beside his dining table, his shower stall and the stair case just above the shop. Viktor’s mouth truly is a wonderland, and he finds his own stamina surprising too. From his peripheral, he can see Viktor sipping from his own mug, fingers playing with the printed designs on the saucer and then to the assortment of beans displayed on the barista counter across him. He can see Phichit smiling, can feel him poking his hand, but Yuuri just shrugs his shoulders, trying his best to ignore and spill him the most minute detail.

He hears a chair being dragged closer, and Yuuri’s initial reaction is to look, but as soon as he turns his head, Viktor’s mouth is already next to his ear, his breath tickling his skin. “What do you do for fun?” he asks, his icy blue eyes drilling holes on his face. He’s touching him again too, just like this morning; like when he holds his hand and pulls him along as they cross the street, or how he wrapped an arm around him earlier when they entered the shop and again, right now, his fingers are fiddling with his own, dragging the pad of his index finger down the length of his knuckle to his wrist.

“I read” Yuuri croaks and hears Phichit stifle a laugh. Well, the town is pretty much boring as much as excitement goes. It’s an old, listless town; not much popular with the tourists because of its unfamiliar attractions and coupled with its tasteless, uninterested folks, this place is considered a haven for old people, and the youth here are busy discovering other quirks and other new things in other cities. Viktor’s the only _“fun”_ thing here since the bookshop opened.

“Anything else?” Viktor asks with a small smile, his chin perched on his hand as he watches Yuuri speak. This man, seriously. Anything he does is graceful and it’s beautiful. “Any interesting places we could visit?”

“Well, the ice rink is pretty nice, I guess” Yuuri comments, contemplating on the last time he actually went there and had fun. Was that 2 years ago? He doesn’t remember exactly. He doesn’t even remember where it's located. But the thrill and the beauty of skating never left him. It was a hobby he had forgotten, and the thought of it alone excites him.

“There’s a rink around here?” Viktor presses on, “I used to skate as a hobby”

Yuuri feels like he’s been splashed with cold water. “The rink it is, then?”

“Absolutely” there’s a jovial tone in Viktor’s voice, and Yuuri being the anxious ball that he is, turns to Phichit. “He’s a keeper” is all he says, nodding and giving him a thumbs-up as he takes their empty cups away.

Yuuri’s heart soars higher.

They spend the rest of the day skating, and it’s not until today that Yuuri’s glad he decided to close the shop just for a day. Usually he’d be nosing around the shop looking for possible new orders or he’d be organizing them into their respective shelves. By noon he’d be buried in novels, criticizing and appraising them; yelling at the main character and cry or gasp as the story progresses. And by the end of the day, he’d be counting his profit, tidy up the place, close the shop and sleep. When he thinks about it now, it’s tiresome. It’s dull and repetitive. But with Viktor now, with his smile and his hands holding his while they skate on the ice, Yuuri thinks it’s not so late after all.

Everyday he’d wake up with an arm pulling him back, the smell of burnt toast and pancakes and basically wasting the first few hours of their morning having sex. It’s a routine they have grown accustomed to in a few weeks since Viktor moved in, and to his bewilderment, the sales actually went up; customers were lining on either side of his counter, purchasing this and that, preoccupying his time when Viktor leaves for work. "He’s your lucky charm" Phichit says when he goes to grab his morning coffee alone one morning. Viktor had to leave early for work, but not without him getting on all fours as Viktor licks him open.

But like every other human being, Viktor has his flaws too. For example, he likes to keep his things in the way he puts them; sometimes in a pile or away in a corner, often times unkempt or left untouched for days. Whereas Yuuri, ever the neat and organized one, likes his (their) things to be kept in their assigned and designated area. He can be messy, stubborn, petty, or can be shallow or insensitive, and most of the time, materialistic. He has an unusual taste for books (erotica for some reason) and sometimes they’d be debating over E.L James and her Fifty Shades of Grey franchise. But there are  good things too, little and simple things like how they prefer their pancakes without butter, how they love winter over the summer, how they both love poodles, how they can be the worst drunks and how they think that figure skating is the most beautiful sport in the world. They find beauty in all the little things, and Yuuri thinks he doesn’t mind Viktor’s clothes strewn all over his apartment floor.

And above all, Viktor’s the first person Yuuri wants to hold on to. He’s this dynamic entity, a product of his own demented fantasy. He’s different but it’s the good kind, the tolerable kind of indifference that can be sorted out with a new book and a kiss in between. “A Gentleman on the streets, a Beast on the sheets” Phichit, again, says this over coffee. “Better grab the chance and tie him down. He’s one in a million” for once, Yuuri wanted to follow Phichit’s advice.

*

“Paulo Coelho”

Yuuri nods when they sort through boxes from another delivery, and Viktor being the imposing tuft of fur combined with oozing sex appeal, actually sits with him on the floor to help out stash the new books on Yuuri’s personal stock. “He’s a genius” he says, his hands picking up a copy of ‘Adultery’ so he can read the summary before handing it over to a grinning Viktor.

“Y’know, I kinda pity Snape”

Okay, that’s new. Yuuri turns around and sees Viktor flipping through the pages of a hardcover copy of Deathly Hallows. He snickers aloud, slides the last book in and without batting an eyelash he says, “Well, he was a total jerk”

“Hey! James was a jerk too!”

“At least he wasn’t obsessed over her”

“James was a good-for-nothing bully. Even Lily got mad over it!”

“It wasn’t James who called her a mudblood”

He laughs at the pout on Viktor’s lips and moves closer, their legs, particularly Viktor’s, were stretched long across the floor that he crawls over them to place a kiss on his cheek. “Not all Slytherins are bad, though” he says, sweeping his tongue over Viktor’s lower lip. “Just misunderstood”

Viktor pulls him in and that right there signals the end of their petty, unnecessary fight. He swings his legs over, wraps them around his hips and settles down on Viktor’s crotch; teasing and just barely touching. Arms loop around his waist, and it doesn’t take a while until Viktor’s hands are creeping inside his shirt, trailing up, up and up, flicking over a nipple and down to his waist, past his hips and-

The door bursts open, and in comes children with their school bags and merry laughter.

Yuuri bumps his head against the cash register, with Viktor scrambling and tripping over his feet as he rises to to get the dust off his knees. “Later” he whispers, and Yuuri yelps lightly when he feels a hand tapping over his ass. He tries winking back but his glasses fall off, bumping his head again against the cash register when he bends down to retrieve them.

*

**20 hours and 8 minutes.**

Yuuri lays in bed with Viktor draped around him. It’s noon and last night, when Viktor notices Yuuri a bit sullen and bored, he had taken him out for a movie, followed by a nice dinner and a quick fuck inside his fancy new Ferrari. Quick fuck soon turned into multiple sessions that lasted until early morning, and here they are, wasted and tired yet happy. Phichit’s been bombarding him with messages, asking why his shop isn’t open and why wasn’t he answering any of his calls. He’ll apologize later, he decides. And then he’s diving back into the covers, with Viktor gladly wrapping him in an even more warmer embrace.

Together they bought groceries at the local supermarket, hand in hand like idiots in love and even had flowers on the table - it’s like some cheesy, domesticated shit Yuuri thought only existed in movies. The man can be adorable too. With an apron tied around his waist, spatula on one hand and a bunny clip on his bangs - he looks like a housewife, Yuuri smiles as he sets the table.

“Borscht?” Yuuri inquires, staring at the distinct red color of the rather unfamiliar dish. He takes a spoonful, and it takes him a moment to recover because holy fuck, this man can cook. There’s Pirozhkis too, and Yuuri savors his time, even teaching Viktor how to cook his infamous katsudon. They danced around his apartment, beat each other’s asses in Shakespeare and cuddle throughout the afternoon watching Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey. Yuuri still doesn’t like Bella or Anastasia Steele, but Viktor just shakes his head, perches his chin on top of Yuuri’s head and wrap the blanket around them closer.

By 11 pm, they retreat back to the kitchen where Viktor adds a bit too much sugar on their coffee. Yuuri pays no heed and drinks it anyway. He cups his cheek, brush his bangs to the side and kiss his nose. Viktor’s response is immediate, and soon his arm is curling around Yuuri’s waist as he kisses him.

“Come with me” he states, straight and without conviction.

_Say yes, dammit._ “You know I can’t” Yuuri answers instead, flicking Viktor’s forehead before setting his cup down. “I’m moving out soon too”

“Can’t a man at least try?” Viktor enlightens, somewhat smiling sadly. Yuuri’s already feeling guilty about it, but he’s confused, conflicted. He’s got his own life and future ahead him and yet here he is, throwing a diamond in the rough, a potential chance to make his life even better, away. Is he afraid? Maybe. Is he worried that it won’t last long? Maybe? Yes? It’s the latter, he thinks. Or maybe both because it’s the same thing. It’s fear. It always has been. It’s fear that one day he’ll be abandoned; forgotten. It’s worry, because what if Viktor grows tired and bored of him? Will he be tossed away? Replaced? There’s always a reason why his past relationships never worked. And maybe why this one isn’t going to either.

Damn his anxiety so much.

So he just kisses him. Hard and demanding. Desperate and yearning. Viktor seems to understand because he’s placing his own cup down and embraces Yuuri closer. He kisses him just as hard, molding their mouths together to the point where it hurts. But neither minded the pain nor the sound of a cup breaking. It’s him and Viktor that matters. It’s this kiss they share and the hands that roam and wander.

“Bed” Yuuri rasps a bit breathless and flushed.

“Конечно”

He’ll miss this mouth the most.

*

Morning can’t come any faster, and Yuuri tries not to mull over it as he sets the pair of plates down on the table. He’s making pancakes again, along with burnt toast and had their lattes delivered over by Leo. It’s currently 7 AM and Viktor won’t leave for another two hours or so. But still he prepares breakfast like it’s another normal day.

He then returns to the bedroom, his lips showing an earnest smile when he sees the lump that is Viktor still cocooned in a blanket. He wakes him with a kiss to his nose. “I made breakfast” he says. Viktor stirs a little, opening his eyes only to squint them back. “You’re wearing my shirt” he hums, gliding his finger over the hem of his shirt that stopped short over Yuuri’s thighs. “You look sexy in it”

Yuuri blushes at 7:10 in the morning. “It’s the only thing I can wear since you tore out my buttons last night” he defends, now pulling the man out of bed by his hands. “Come on, the coffee will get cold”

Viktor pins him down to the bed in an instant, “No breakfast in bed for me?” he asks with a little nip to Yuuri’s ear, “But you look good enough to eat” and with a hand creeping up to Yuuri’s thigh, he squeezes him on the ass. “Thank you for the meal”

Yuuri stops him with a smack before pulling him to the kitchen. The latte still tastes good cold anyway.

Viktor’s all prepped up and prepared when Yuuri exits the bathroom. “You all set?” he asks, immediately regretting his question when anxiety blooms on his chest again.

“Just a few more things and I’m good” Viktor replies, closing his bag and fixing the tie around his neck. He looks good. Just like the first time he saw him.

So that’s it then. The glorious end to _this_ \- whatever “this” thing is called. Viktor embraces him tight and Yuuri smells the scent of his cologne for possibly the last time. _**Stay**_. He wants to say, and yet he chickens out, his voice retreating back to his throat as he clings a bit longer, fingers hooking around the belt loops of Viktor’s pants. Viktor’s lips taste like coffee and vanilla, and there’s this tiny voice inside his head that’s telling him that he’s gonna regret not telling him to stay.

They fuck nice and rough and long on top of the kitchen counter. Viktor’s rougher than usual, and they’d done it three more times as Yuuri imprints these last moments into his memory. He grabs Viktor’s hair, kisses the living daylights out of him and comes with Viktor’s name on his lips.

 

* * *

 

It’s another day of delivery and one week has passed since Viktor left. It’s quite lonely being alone again, considering that his apartment was like a mad house for having a Russian speak on his native tongue over the phone almost every night. He seeks the warmth of the space on the bed next to him, it feels odd to see his floor so clean and organized, it’s weird to know that he’s only washing a piece of plate and one set of utensils. He misses the scent of his cologne. He misses the kisses he receives every morning. He misses Viktor fucking Nikiforov. And if he wasn’t so chicken enough, wasn’t so stubborn, he’d be riding his way over to paradise by now.

Phichit greets him like the usual, makes him his usual latte, but even the kid seemed down. “You’re leaving tomorrow, right?” he asks, and it takes Yuuri a while to notice that he’s talking to him. “Huh? Ah, yeah. My replacement will come by this afternoon. I’d better show him around before I leave”

He tried to sound excited, but in fact, he’s a bit hesitant to leave. He’s gotten used to this peaceful, simple town because it grew on him, even learned to love it. The folks especially, though at times shy and uninterested, they were good people that bear no ill-will and bad intentions. “I’m gonna miss your rambling” Yuuri tells Phichit. “You two too, lovebirds” he gestures over to Leo and Guang who were practically glued to the hip. “Take care of him, Leo”

“What about you?” he hears Phichit ask, “Aren’t you going after your happily ever after?”

He’s about to say no, to deny, to pretend that he didn’t hear it all. “How?” he answers instead, with a question of his own. “I’m moving away. I don’t have his number, I don’t know where he lives, hell I don’t even know what he does for a living”

It was all so sudden - Viktor’s arrival and the short time they shared. It’s almost amazing to think about, that a stranger could suddenly walk in and change your life and leave a permanent streak. He’s been living his fantasy these past few weeks, and yet the bitter truth of knowing that he might never see Viktor again - there’s this unmistakable pain on his chest. It’s faint but it grows every time he ponders. It’s there, he knows it.

Phichit comes over that night and helps him pack. It’s comforting even as he puts down the last of his stuff in a big box in the middle of his living room. He misses this place already, and the sudden embrace from Phichit is the cherry on top of his cake that he begins to cry.

*

It’s Day 7 on the city and he wakes up to the usual noises of construction and car honks. His apartment is bigger, a bit dull, empty because he didn’t even bother to finish unpacking and it’s dark. Even with the curtains open and the sun rising in the east. The buildings here are endless; Yuuri ponders as he sits up and looks around. Cold. Uncomfortable. It’s even more lifeless around here. He makes the bed with little enthusiasm, leaves it with his blanket unfolded and saunters off to make breakfast.

He misses the latte Phichit makes for him. The coffee on the shop just 2 floors below was a little too sweet for his liking and the employees were unfriendly, busy people whose faces are pulled into a frown. Ah, city folks. They’re these kind of people who love to rush things with their phones against their ears and deal with their own city-life problems. His workplace is the same too, with his boss screaming down on lazy employees and the same gloomy-faced people behind computers; red-eyed, tired and pale. At least his cubicle’s nice, situated beside a large window that he can look outside and below; down to this massive sea of people and to the monotone swirls of rain clouds above.

It’s raining now and Yuuri delights at the crowd on the streets scuttling away like ants. He doodles away, writing something in Thai that Phichit had taught him not so long ago and draws little stick figures on his draft papers. It's not much for entertainment, and there’s only 5 minutes left before his shift ends. His boss is yelling again, something about submitting their articles on time and meeting their deadlines. Yuuri sighs, like for the umpteenth time that day and closes his laptop. He doesn’t bother to throw his trash, nor stack the papers strewn about his table. It’s better this way, he says, makes things a little easier. Viktor’s habits seem to cling unto him when time passes.

The clock on his office strikes 4, and he’s out before his co-workers can even stretch or complain. The rain’s pouring harder and Yuuri makes a quick grab for his umbrella, says an awkward goodbye to the receptionist in the lobby and then he’s pushing the big rotating doors, out to the equally dull and noisy streets that he now calls home. He doesn’t bother looking back, doesn’t mutter an apology when someone bumps into him; he just continues walking, eyes downcast with his bag on his side and his thoughts swirling in his head.

“Just another day” he mumbles as he counts his steps while crossing the street.

*

He’s greeted with a voice mail from Phichit, telling him to call back or to “stop moping around and visit us already”. Yuuri calls him shortly after, groaning as static interrupts the line while he lounges on his too-large bed. At least his books are there to fill the gap.

“How’s the shop?” he asks, flipping through his assortment of Edgar Allan Poe’s poems. He’s reading _The Raven_ silently, missing the familiar sound of the blender he hears from the other side of the line. “Your replacement sucks” Phichit complains, “I had to send Leo over to help him organize the deliveries”

Yuuri laughs when he hears Guang and Leo mumble something about visiting, and it’s true that he’s tempted to leave work for a day and just hang out at the shop, at the rink or even at the damn street of his old hometown. He's just missing them too much. “Maybe later” he says, rolling his eyes when the rain earlier plunges into a freaking downpour. His reception sucks now, his friends’ voices fading at the background and he vows to call again when the static is too much that his ear starts to buzz.

Silence envelopes the room quick, and it’s the kind that Yuuri hates. Unlike those times when Viktor was around, he didn’t mind the slow humming of his heater or the ticking of his wall clock, but now, he notices how sad his bed looks with no one other than himself occupying it, or how simple breakfast can be when he isn’t cooking for two, or just how big this new apartment is. Sure it’s not a mansion, but for a lone man whose schedule consists of 8 hours at work, eat, sleep and repeat; it does seem like it.

He decides on what to cook that night and ends up with an unusual combination of borscht and a katsudon. Great, even his food reminds him of Viktor. He needs something to distract himself, something to brighten his gloomy, moody week; clubbing is out of the equation, so is alcohol and trips to the local mall. It’s not his fault anyway, okay well, maybe it is. He was given the once-in-a-lifetime chance of what could have been and he backed out the last minute. Stupid. Maybe reading will help. It always, _always_ calms his mind.

He then changes into his loose robe, one that hangs off one shoulder and strangely for some reason, smells a lot like Viktor and is about to take his seat for dinner - an unappetizing, only-for-one course - when the bell rings. The rain’s still pouring outside and he hasn’t ordered anything online either, not to mention the time, it’s almost 9 pm and he’s quite sure gift packages don’t deliver this late. Even his co-workers don’t know where he lives. Heaving a sigh and making sure that the stove is turned off, he leaves the table with heavy steps and ignores the rumble of thunder outside his windows.

Maybe it’s those darn kids again. My, what lovely neighbors. Expecting to see no one, because again, kids these days loves to play pranks on mopey old men like him, he sports a scowl and is about to shout at whoever or whatever because his first week here is just hell, swings the door open and--

“Добрый вечер”

And oh. **Oh**. It’s not some fuzzy haired kid or the cold, empty air that greets him. It’s silver hair, icy blue eyes, a megawatt smile and a dripping, heavy-looking coat with a tall, Russian-speaking man standing on his doorway. Yuuri gawks, awestruck and speechless. He wanted to pinch himself, close the goddamn door and shake himself awake. Surely this is some kind of dream?

“Hello, Yuuri”

Fuck, it’s not. And he’s awake. _Shitshitshit._ **He’s here.** Viktor looks good, even better the last time he saw him. His hair’s a bit longer too, a little messy and wet and shit, the urge to just run his hands through it is strong. He meets Viktor’s gaze and he bites his lips. The urge to kiss him too is maddening.

“Uhm, yeah” Viktor says, ducking his head. “I called the bookshop a week ago, and they said you already moved out. So...” a scratch to his nape and a blush to his cheeks. God, this man is adorable.

Yuuri figures he might just lose his ability to speak, given the sheer shock of it all that he remains rooted to his spot, struggling to open his mouth.

“I know that what we had was special. Well for me it was, I’m not so sure how you feel but Phichit’s been adamant about our relationship and I just can’t help but wonder, why not take things up a notch?” he’s standing on the balls of his feet now, and Yuuri silently pleads for him not to fall over, “And you remember that night when I asked you to come with me? Yeah, that was me being overly excited and pushy and I realized I might have pressured you so much because things like that should be taken seriously and I don’t want to suddenly take you away and live a completely different life. Basically what I’m trying to say is, I like you. I enjoyed our time together and I wish we could have more than just sex and stuff. If you don’t want to, can you at least give me a chance? because really, this is the first fime I have felt like this for anyone and I’m willing to work harder for our relationship to grow. I mean, Phichit told me this is where you live and I really, really want to give this a try. You may not want it now, but at least don’t push me away. When I left your old place, it took me days to have a decent sleep and waking up alone...it was lonely you know? I miss showering together and I miss the smell of books, I miss your cooking and basically everything about you-”

“Viktor!” Yuuri exclaims once he finally finds his voice. “You’re rambling”

It’s a sight to behold, Viktor Nikiforov is blushing from his ears down to his neck.

“Uhm, yeah. I tend to do that when I’m nervous” he replies, still flushed. The awkward atmosphere around them is tense, and if not for his sneezing would Yuuri realize that he’s still dripping wet from the rain. He ushers him in, not caring the least that his floor is getting wet and his carpet partially soaked through.

“Wait here” and then he’s rushing to his bedroom, grabs a towel and wraps it around Viktor’s head. His fingers absentmindedly fumble with his clothes, starting with that big-ass coat which he hung on the rack beside the door, to his vest, and then to his shirt that clung unto him like second skin. His thoughts are still a jumbled mess, an endless list of how’s and why’s and what if’s and why does Viktor still look perfect even when he’s shy or why the fuck isn’t he saying anything after that speech and why the fuck is he trembling? His fingers are trembling as they unbutton halfway of Viktor’s shirt, and it’s only then that he realizes the warmth of Viktor’s hands, how they perfectly overlap his, and how his fingers fit through the spaces of his own hands. And if it wasn’t for Viktor who’s staring him down, and for the arms that secure him up against a strong chest, Yuuri would have bailed out on him by now.

His glasses gets plucked from his nose and Yuuri throws all worries away as he pulls Viktor by the tie still hanging loosely around his neck and kisses the damn man. Viktor growls, loving the feel of vibration on his body and the fingers that grasp on his hair, pulling and yanking and keeping him close. A tongue prods the seam of Yuuri’s lips, and he’s all too eager that he opens his mouth with invitation, moaning when the taste of coffee and vanilla bombard his senses. He missed this. A lot. He registers the rough surface of his wall when Viktor slips a hand inside his robe, grabs a leg to wrap it around his waist and push him there to grind their torsos together. He moans, loud and shameless, when another hand pulls at the sleeve, scratch at the skin on his back and a mouth nipping at his collarbone.

“Yes” Yuuri gasps, wanting to grind himself to completion as Viktor buries his face into his neck; breathing and taking him in, rubbing their groins together and kiss him until he’s all out of breath. It feels nice, being kissed like this again. It feels nice when each kiss and each touch send molten heat and want rushing to his veins. Viktor kisses him again, rough and sloppy while he keeps him there, pinned, flushed and panting.

“Sorry” he says, “I was a coward for not going after you” he places a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s forehead.

“I’m the coward” Yuuri answers, rotating his hips while pulling at Viktor’s tie harder. “I was stupid enough not to give this a chance.” he gestures over Viktor’s hard chest and spreads his fingers over to where his heart beats, “To give us a chance”

He's blindsided by a smile followed by Viktor leaning his forehead against his. "I've missed you" he whispers, eyes bright and hopeful.

"Missed you too" Yuuri replies, feeling absolved and relieved. As though an invisible burden has been lifted from his shoulders. Viktor responds by burying his nose in Yuuri's hair, pressing himself closer; seeking warmth.

"You're still wet" Yuuri muses when he feels his robe now soaked through. Viktor smiles apologetically and unbuttons the rest of his shirt, "Shower?" he asks, already pulling at his willing victim. "Hmm? But the food's gonna get cold" Yuuri chides playfully, their fingers curling nicely around the other. He pulls Viktor by his tie again (he found his new kink voilà!) and smiles when Viktor presses him flush against his side. "You can always reheat it afterwards" he winks, "And besides, I haven't got my daily fill of you yet. Two weeks of nothing was fucking hell"

Yuuri laughs and looks up at Viktor, turns his head to look at the food on the table and thinks that he might need to cook another portion.

Viktor's arm only tightens around him further.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still having YOI hangover wtf.


End file.
